A Propitiative Divulgence
by Gala Manifest
Summary: Light/Fang. Gratuitous glances become lingering, persisting and voracious. Touches, though fleeting, are momentous, eminent. Tomorrow, they stand against fate. Tonight, the inevitable happens.


AN: I'm very late to this party. I have recently finished the game and have been reading fics nonstop for the past two weeks. I've come across great authors and amazing stories and I've been inspired to try my hand at it.

A warning to all, my interpretation of Light and Fang don't really match the norm. I enjoy Fang's teasing nature but I don't make her overdo it as most tend to. The way I see it, Light has a cooler head, is more forgiving and tolerant of Fang's antics and she's not quick to punch or make heads roll. I'm still testing the waters, haven't written and haven't given much thought on how long or how far I'll take this.

The story takes place before the party leaves for Eden, some time after the confrontation with the fake Serah and the second time you fight Barthandelus. I was really bothered that they kept Light's real name a big secret only to blow it off when they finally reveal it. My intentions were to reflect the powerful Light/Fang moment in Palumpolum.

If you have any thoughts or comments, please don't hesitate to review. Much appreciated.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only and is not being used for profit.<p>

**_A Propitiative Divulgence  
><em>**_Introduction_

Neutrality. Detachment. The facets of a soldier. Apathy. Dispassion. Indifference. The perfect soldier. A machine. A tool. A l'cie. A monster. Of the middling emotions Lightning Farron could still feel, she felt them because of her sister, and what she felt of late was remorse, shame and anguish that had distorted into a morose, aberrant melancholy when Barthandelus, in Serah's visage, spoke her name. Her real name, a cherished albeit waning testament of the childhood and innocence she had sacrificed, was debased and snatched from her sapless grasp, as was her sister.

- "You can't do that, you love me too much. You do, don't you, Claire?" -

Swathed in acid and venom unbecoming of Serah, the words haunted Light well into the night and well into her nightmares, incessant and unforgiving. She had woken up in a cold, chilling sweat, starved for breath and clamoring for a soldier's composure and control. Yet it was lost to her as she was lost to herself. She had escaped the sparse warmth of the threadbare sheets that had become suffocating. In haste she donned the few articles of clothing she had bothered to remove for sleep and bolted out of the centuries-old Oerban orphanage that sufficed as their shelter for the night.

The ex-sergeant had swiftly descended the stairs and came to a stop at the bottom. Her hand, trembling still, rested delicately upon her chest. She had felt it, the mark of the l'cie, a blemish on her flesh. It was advancing, thriving in the disquiet of her soul and the ever growing affliction in her heart. She lifted her gaze heavenward and marveled at the unearthly beauty of Cocoon, the world she had once called home. She sent a wish to the wind, a prayer unanswered. To her astonishment, with that act of succumbing her resolve, since reduced to crumbling fragments, was forged anew, molded with the promise she made to Serah.

On her own, Lightning had traveled down the dangerous path to the broken bridge, transient as it was prominent. The cie'th that stood in her way were slain with a swiftness and brutality worthy of her namesake as she stayed true to the inscription impressed upon the blade of her weapon. She was treading now on the precipice, calling forth the fear and misery within her and willing them to take shape. However, it was not in the form of Barthandelus but of Serah brandishing a malignant expression that didn't suit her sister's face.

Light kept her poise, pushing back impulses that had previously consumed her. The impeccably accurate illusion of Serah verged upon her and spewed a horrendous cackle, but she refused to forfeit the battle to Barthandelus even before it had begun. Her mind wasn't his to squander and manipulate for his morbid amusement. She was through allowing a cowardly fal'cie to taint her thoughts and memories of Serah. Her own flesh and blood. The only family she had left. The reason for her existence.

_'This ends here and now.'_

The feel of her fingertips caressing the hilt of her gunblade was a sensation that was not unfamiliar. Her mind was clear, her own once again. In a split second, her blade sundered the image of her sister and it morphed into the petrified face of Galenth Dysley, shattering the ruse crafted by the ill will of Barthandelus and his fal'cie brethren. The mirage was fractured by a white flash, its smatterings pouring into her brand and disappearing into the oblivion within her. She slid her gunblade back in its holster. Lightning had vanquished the ghost and contained the turmoil inside her. She felt only an unwavering calm, a placating numbness and a complacency that no force or fal'Cie could unhinge.

Apathy. Dispassion. Indifference. The ex-sergeant welcomed back the liberating sense of not feeling. She had to focus on her only purpose and withdraw from unnecessary distractions she couldn't afford. Such was her life, the only means of functioning and existing she had known and had grown accustomed to since the death of her mother. This solitude was her domain. A comfort zone. A center of gravity.

And yet it all rippled ever so slightly when a presence, one Lightning had been aware of from the very beginning, drew near. However, she did nothing to acknowledge her uninvited guest.

"Off doin' things by your lonesome again, eh Sunshine?"

In a single statement, Light had her unwanted companion defined and scrutinized. Laid-back. Audacious. Heedless. Derisive. From a perspective, Fang was her antithesis, an entity of fundamentals and structures opposite her own. In a moment of weakness, such as their encounter in Palumpolum, the ex-sergeant balked under the clash of their vastly different personalities, but she had long evolved and adapted to Fang's often inappropriate and infuriating character.

"Knew I was here, didn't ya? Well, ain't cha least gonna look me in the eye and say hello?"

From the corner of her eye, Light eyed the other l'cie. "What is it you want, Fang?" She had learned very early to be blunt with Fang. Tolerating or humoring her only resulted in terrible migraines and wasted physical and mental energy she could have expended more productively, a concept that had escaped the rest of her ragtag group. Though, in hindsight, she was Fang's most frequent victim.

The huntress caught her gaze and first responded with a smirk, eyes alight with zeal and mischief. "That it? No foreplay? You're no fun, soldier. Guess we're gonna do this your way, aye? To think I went through all this trouble, gettin' outta bed just to keep ya company. Ain't the easiest thing in the world slitherin' outta Vanille's midnight choke holds, ya know. Girl's got a helluva a grip!" To demonstrate, Fang appeared to choke herself with her arm.

Light contained a frustrated growl in her throat. "If you're looking for someone who'll appreciate your company, you'll get that from Vanille," she said, her voice void of the annoyance she had very nearly expressed. "She needs you." The ex-sergeant didn't bother to elaborate, deeming it unnecessary. Fang's place was with Vanille, as it was Lightning's place to spend the night alone, reinforcing her inner strength and defenses for the battle to come. The airship, a parting gift from Barthandelus, was further reminder of their destination come morning and the fate they must defy to fulfill her promise to Serah.

"Don't ya worry 'bout Vanille. She's gonna be fine, safe and sound and surrounded by family." The expression on Fang's face softened greatly. The brief silence between them was unexpected but not unpleasant. "Been waitin' for a long while to hear ya say you cared, Light," the huntress confessed in a tone she only used when speaking to or speaking about Vanille. "'Fraid to say, but I'm gonna hafta disobey these orders to leave, sergeant. Never was good at followin' the rules, ya know."

The ex-sergeant gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Suit yourself." She didn't have the patience or the time to amuse Fang. She was emotionally drained from fighting her demons and her body was reaching its limit. Though her mind, despite having been cleansed of the tainted Serah planted by Barthandelus, was alert and had taken special notice of the Pulsian warrior at her side.

"Don't mind if I do." Fang chuckled, ever unhindered by worries or doubts. The huntress, in turn, gave a smile. Not a smirk. A smile. And it occurred to Light that Fang had never smiled at her before. Gone was the familiar expression of conceit and leer, allowing the ex-sergeant a glimpse of a subdued countenance. "Lightnin', Lightnin', Lightnin'..." the warrior chanted her name, the succeeding chuckle ringing flat and humorless.

She took the time to observe the other woman. The somber aura she was feeling was one she hadn't experienced in the huntress' company. Fang was erratic, able to leap from rage to laughter with a simplicity likened to flipping a switch, but the constant factor was that the warrior was confident impassioned, regardless of what she was feeling. Before her was an entirely different woman, one who was uncertain and concealing emotions.

"You're makin' me worry here, Light," Fang whispered, lips momentarily curving upwards before another of her vacant laughs filled the air. "You're makin' me worry real bad, Claire."


End file.
